What it Means to be Human
by Uncake
Summary: At the end of the day, winding down with a drink and some pleasant company is only human.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer :- Devil May Cry and all it's characters are the property of Capcom and are being used here in compliance with the terms found on their website.

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**What it Means to be Human**

"Look, kid, I just don't think things are as clear cut as you make out." Dante called after Nero as the latter kicked open the door of Devil May Cry. The impact of the door thumping into the wall sounded like it had added to the dent that had been steadily growing in the years since Dante had rebuilt the shop. Watching his beloved neon sign flicker and cut out made Dante wince before following Nero inside. He hated to think of the hole Nero was beginning to burn in his already empty pockets.

"Whatever, but I think you're making a mistake." He slung the bass case off his back and removed his beloved Red Queen while Dante simply rested his against the wall. Given their clothes it was easy to mistake the two men for musicians but it had taken some doing to convince Nero that it was a necessary, as civilian carrying a six foot blade through the middle of a busy city was bound to attract unwanted attention and confrontations. The charade had irked Nero, however, as he was used to proudly displaying his weapon as a knight. Hiding her away made it seem like he was ashamed. It had been their first fight since Nero had come to the city but not their last. Everyday something Dante did irked Nero and he wasn't one to keep quiet about such things.

The falling out was in the form of an argument on a relatively touchy subject for both of them. The difference between humans and demons.

"Don't you think my greater wisdom and experience should count for something?" Dante asked as he slid out of his long coat and tossed it to land on one of his many Devil Arm displays. The sword in question snorted at this treatment but went unheeded.

It had been getting late when the two had headed out on their mission. Dante reflected that it would have been nice to make a beeline for the shower and then hit the sack, but the events of the evening and the constant bickering had his mind too occupied for sleep. Telling himself he deserved it and that he'd only have one, maybe two, he turned his attention to his well stocked private bar.

Nero meanwhile, had settled himself on the small sofa in the corner. The sofa was as old as all the furniture Dante owned, though Nero reckoned that its spring had passed away more from Dante's rough treatment than from age. Nero held his sword, point to the floorboards, and set about cleaning and maintaining both the blade and the intricate Exceed System. He liked to keep his attention occupied by day to day tasks like this whenever the two of them fell to arguing. He was only staying with Dante for a few weeks while the more experienced hunter introduced him to the various contacts he might need for work in the big city. It was clear that Dante was trying to make a good impression, the place had actually been relatively tidy when he'd arrived, but Dante's inner slob and not been held at bay for long and now the main room played host to empty takeout boxes discarded magazines and the scattered remains of a few practice dummies. Sighing to himself as he looked up he saw that Dante had wasted no time in fishing out some glasses which were passably clean and opening a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Age might make you more experienced," Nero retorted "but you must be going senile if you think a bloodthirsty demon could pull a 180 and be all sweetness and light."

Dante's barked a laugh and downed his first drink, completely unphased by the barbs in Nero's comment. After all, it was common knowledge that his own father had done precisely that. Trish as well if it came to that. It occurred to Dante that although Nero had met Trish more than once, they hadn't really spoken of her much. He couldn't be certain whether or not he'd actually remembered to mention to the kid that Trish was technically one hundred percent demon, not that that mattered much. Smacking his lips as he savoured the taste, Dante poured another drink though a little larger this time, and decided to wait until a more appropriate time to out Trish.

"You think this is a black and white issue do you? Good and evil, the two extremes? No room for manoeuvring, no compromises?" He sipped at his drink as he came around the bar to plant himself on one of the high barstools. The bar set up had cost him a pretty penny, he had to admit. If he was feeling more honest he'd admit it was a pretty penny more than he could really afford, but it had been a good friend to him over the years. Especially after a night like the one he'd just had.

"Well I admit it's not quite as clear cut as all that. You know I'm not naïve enough to think otherwise. I just don't see what's wrong with saying that…"

"All devils are evil?" Dante finished and grinned darkly.

Nero sighed with exasperation. He'd been dealing with demon's most of his life. He'd spent years surrounded by experts in demon lore and was sure of what he was saying. He truly believed it.

"What's wrong with that? They kill people and perform unspeakable act of cruelty, they keep invading this world and trying to take it over. What more do you need before you call that evil?"

"For a start, what army in history hasn't said that about the other side?" Dante heard the sofa groan as Nero stood up in anger, but continued on before he could be interrupted. "Secondly, everyone is capable of having a change of heart, even demons. Though I admit I keep a one strike and you're out policy."

"But it just doesn't happen!" Nero's voiced was raised with a note of a whine in it. He cleared his throat and made an effort to sound more normal and gave up concentrating on cleaning his sword. This clearly wasn't an argument that was going to just blow over after a quick exchange. "It's one thing to say maybe they'll give up evil but if it was that were that easy there'd be retired demons all over the place."

"Now you're just sounding childish." Dante still sat at the bar his back to the approaching Nero, striding over in order to look him in the face. After leaning his sword against the bar Nero noticed he was only able to look down at the top of Dante's lowered head.

"Are you going to keep treating me like a kid no matter what I do?" he asked heatedly. Moving his hair out of his eyes, Dante sat up straight and smiled lazily once they were at eye level. At times like this if always surprised Nero that the two of them were near enough the same height. It was as if Dante usually managed to give the impression he was far taller. This was the smallest Nero had ever seen him looking.

"You'll always be a kid to me." Somehow he made it sound like it was meant as an endearing complement, but it simply irked Nero. "If you're so sure of everything, then answer me this," His voice tightened as he spoke and he lifted his glass to peer at it in the light. Belated Nero noticed that there was far more missing from the bottle that he'd expected. Dante wasn't just having a drink or two, this was heavy duty drinking. "What's the difference between a demon and a human?" He finally asked, frowning as he did so, as though he was the one who'd just been asked it.

This puzzled Nero; he'd never heard Dante talk so much before. It was disconcerting. To hide his embarrassment he slipped onto the stool to Dante's right, which caused the other to break out of his reverie.

"Well kid?" He asked, pouring a shot into a second glass and sliding it over without even asking if he'd like it. "Think a demon living in the human world could become human if they chose to live like one?"

After a tentative sniff of his glass, Nero added some lemonade and tried a sip. It tasted foul to him but at least the flavour was a little disguised by the mixer. In the meantime, Dante had poured himself another.

"What if," Nero began tentatively, "what if they can't integrate? What if they relapse and someone gets killed? One strike and you're out sounds fine in theory but it wouldn't bring the dead person back. Surely it's better to wipe them out while we can rather than trust they might be strong enough to change their ways?"

This made Dante chuckle as he took his drink a little slower.

"You think that all demons do is spend their days hating and fighting this world? I though you knew better, after all, wasn't it you're lot that droned on about how humane my old man was?"

It was the first time Nero had heard Dante talk about his father, though he'd been hoping that this particular point wouldn't come up, seeing as it was the biggest contradiction to everything else The Order had taught him. Dante had his full attention now though. Nero might not have been one for prayer and overt reverence but he'd always tried to take inspiration from the story of Sparda. Although he was burning with questions, he couldn't bring himself to ask anything. After all, The Order of the Sword had made Sparda out to be more than just a demon who'd done good; they'd all but raised him to the status of a god. An here he was watching the god's son working his way through a bottle of whiskey in a run down store in the bad part of a rough and dangerous metropolis.

Steering clear of the subject, Nero brought the conversation round to the demons they'd been fighting that evening.

"Demons living like humans are one thing but that pack tonight were different. I don't see why you let those last two live. They weren't looking to settle down and open a restaurant here. They'll just lick their wounds and go back to fighting humans."

"They surrendered." Dante's eyes were as hard as his tone with this pronouncement. Once again it seemed like he was arguing with someone other than Nero. "Not only that but the smaller one came back for its friend. You don't cut people down in cold blood." His head snapped up and he seemed a bit more himself again. "You just don't do it kid." He didn't sound unkind, more as though he was teaching a less.

"But they weren't people, they were demons." Nero sipped at his drink again, trying to enjoy it but wondering if spirits were a good way to be introduced to post battle drinking.

"And there" Dante raised his glass as he gestured "is where I just can't agree with you." He downed the contents before thumping the empty glass upside down on the bar. "There is no such thing as non-people kid. Don't ever use that as a justification for what we do. I've killed humans as well as demons and I tell you now, every last one of them was a person."

Now Nero was feeling particularly uncomfortable. He tried another swallow before abandoning his drink and settling for sitting in silence, wondering how he might fair if he had to fight a drunken Dante to take away the whiskey bottle.

Before Nero could decide if it was worth the risk, Dante seemed to read his mind. A gloved hand shot out and took the bottle but the neck. Spinning around on the stool, he faced into the room and leaned back with his elbows on the bar, the bottle now well out of Nero's reach without resorting to his Devil Bringer. The way Dante was glowering, it wouldn't have surprised Nero if Dante had started to swig directly from the bottle.

"Look," Nero started awkwardly, trying to break the dark mood which had settled over them. "I didn't mean…" but Dante interrupted.

"What does that matter kid. You're not the first to think it. I just want you to understand." When he looked over at Nero the redness in his eyes was a surprise. Gripping the edge of the bar with both hands he swallowed hard but kept quiet. "It's the job kid; this life ain't an easy one. And what's more, if you think it is you're fooling yourself." He clapped a large hand on Nero's shoulder with considerable force while he spoke, making Nero's hair stand on end.

Without warning, Dante was off his stool with steadiness which surprised Nero. He didn't move as if drunk. Nero wondered how often Dante must get drunk like this if he'd was able to mask it so well. When he crossed the room however, it was not with the usual swagger of a Dante at ease. Those level serious strides were that of a man going into battle. Approaching his discarded coat, Nero wondered at first if Dante was planning to head out to find something to fight, yet Dante left the coat where it had been thrown. Much to Nero's dismay, Dante turned back around with one of his trusty sidearms in his left hand, Ebony. Unsure of just what was going on, Nero silently thanked his lucky stars that he was still wearing his own coat and could feel the reassuring weight of the Blue Rose at his side.

Heedless of his concerned audience, Dante began pacing the room, the half empty Jack Daniels' bottle dangling at his side and Ebony's flank tapping a rhythm against his neck, as though he were aiming at something over his shoulder.

Nero's hairs were still on end and he tensed his muscles as he kept a close eye on Ebony's every movement. The sight of Dante with a gun in his hand was not one which Nero was happy with at the best of times. Trying not to attract attention to his movements, Nero slid off of the bar stool and took a few muted steps towards the desk.

Even with so much alcohol in his system, Dante's senses were still far sharper than average and he looked up at the sound of Nero's step. A dark look passed over his features and he began to rail, gesturing wildly with the hand which held the gun.

"The quicker you learn to accept it the better kid." Nero nodded emphatically, not certain if Dante was still talking about the same thing or not. It sounded as it he'd missed a large portion of unspoken conversation. He kept his expression calm as he took a step towards Dante in an effort to placate him. "Otherwise, when it finally hits it'll be worse. This isn't pretty but I'd rather save you all that bullshit." There was a strange croak in Dante's voice as he said this and looked aside.

Holding Ebony up at eye level, Dante turned her this way and that as though admiring the design.

"You know what this is kid? This is how we live and how we bury ourselves." He reached his arm out, aiming across the room towards where Nero was standing and calmly pulled the trigger.

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_Authors Note :- Surprisingly enough this was originally intended as a relatively light-hearted and funny piece but it went and mutated on me. The next chapter is half complete and will hopefully be up in the next few days, but I'm still unsure whether or to let this slide into yaoi or not. A belated big thank you to otherhawk for proofreading this and "Something on His Mind" as well as for your constant encouragement. _


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer :- Devil May Cry and all it's characters are the property of Capcom and are being used here in compliance with the terms found on their website.

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**What it Means to be Human**

There was a sound of smashing glass and Nero felt some of the remains of his whiskey and lemonade splash his cheek as he kept his eye's locked to Dante's. A few beads of sweat were making their way down the young man's back but no fear or even surprise showed on his face as he stood stock still, jaw clenched. Dante whistled appreciatively.

"Not bad kid. You didn't even blink, though I've got to wonder if your eye is just better than I give you credit, or if it's a sign of blind trust and stupidity on your part." Stepping forwards heavily, and chuckling to himself, Dante sank down onto the sofa Nero had not long ago occupied. Nero had to suppress a groan as Dante actually did start to sip straight from the bottle now. When he spoke again, however, there was no sign of mirth and playfulness. It was as if the whiskey had brought him to some inner sobriety. "We're killers kid. No matter how we try to dress it up, that's the truth you've got to be able to face. If you don't you'll lose it soon enough or retire early." He placed Ebony momentarily against his own temple, his meaning pointedly clear. Both men stared at the weapon; a sleek fully functioning device, designed, like the two of them, for one purpose, killing.

"Dante," Nero's voice came out small but level, "I think it might be an idea to call somebody."

An expression of boredom crept across Dante's features and he tossed Ebony on to the coffee table in front of him and returned his attention to his bottle.

"Do as you please." He all but spat the words.

Finally feeling free to move and breathe, Nero reached the desk and paused, one hand hovering above the phone. There was no address pad of contacts numbers, simply a list of local restaurants that did take out tacked to the wall. It was foolish to think that Dante would be so organized and so he settled for lifting the whole telephone and carrying it over to the sofa.

"Call someone." Nero ordered, thrusting the device under Dante's nose. His tone made it clear he wasn't in the mood to be messed about. Dante tutted and tipped the bottle back again. "Now who's being childish?" Nero roared. Slamming the phone down onto the coffee table, he reached out with his Devil Bringer to wrench the bottle for Dante's grip. "Call, or I'll smash it over that thick head of yours!"

Whether it was the threat to his person, his booze or because he was grudgingly impressed by Nero's suicidal persistence, Dante kicked a leg up onto the table, slammed it down hard enough for the receiver to bounce up and caught it in midair. The warning glare he gave Nero, reminding the rookie that even drunk Dante was by far the more skilled of the two. With each spin of the dial, Nero's stomach trembled as he struggled not to give in and break eye contact. Dante's accusing stare made him feel both embarrassed and ashamed so that he gave in and looked aside before the last rotation had finished. When he glanced back Dante hadn't so much as blinked.

"It's me," Dante spoke into the mouthpiece, his voice frosted and harder than Nero had yet heard it. Somehow it gave him the impression that this phone conversation was not something he was ever supposed to see. "Yeah. Yeah." Dante closed his eyes and gave a small, bitter laugh. "Jack." He looked over at the bottle still in Nero's grasp. "Nearly half."

"Nearly all." Nero spoke loudly so that the unknown party could here.

"Yeah it's the kid. No, I won't. See you in a bit." He threw the receiver down into its cradle and crossed his booted feet on the table.

"Satisfied?" he asked tartly.

Nero ignored this and planted himself heavily on the sofa next to Dante. He allowed himself a heavy sigh carefully avoiding eye contact as he wasn't in the mood for losing another staring match. Somehow, seeing Dante as unguarded as this felt as much like a betrayal as it did a measure of trust. Silently he wondered if that was what the gun play earlier had been about; Dante's way of seeing how much trust Nero had in him, before choosing to return that trust. That or the man really was the impulse driven fool he made himself out to be.

Staring at the ceiling, with its slowly creaking fan blade, Nero found himself thinking hard on the point Dante had made about the true nature of their work. They might try to call themselves slayers, or hunters, even heroes from time to time, but would be truly be able to face it if all these titles boiled down to was a killer in his Sunday best? Demons are people too. If that were true, how many people had he killed? How many were somebody's parents, somebody child? With a cold shiver he remembered a misery wracked shriek in a jungle like forest. Somehow that sound had not penetrated him as deeply then as it did now.

He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the voices resounded in his memory; a mother's grief for her lost children and his own blasé retort. Looking down, he noticed his Devil Bringer was glowing fiercely as he gripped the whiskey bottle by it's neck with enough force that it was in danger of shattering. Sighing heavily once more, he closed his eyes and knocked it back.

One small swallow later and he was spluttering, trying not to choke yet holding the back of his hand to his mouth in an effort to keep from spaying a mouthful of whiskey across the table. Through the burning in his throat and mouth he heard Dante burst out in an uproar of thigh slapping, barked laughter.

"You might want to work your way up to neat whiskey kid," Nero glowered back "and no just one swallow isn't going to make me cut that out 'kid'. "

Nero forced down the rest of his mouthful and gasped for air.

"How do you drink this poison? It tastes awful."

"With a lot of style," Dante chuckled. "You don't have to like it. Try the icebox, there should be a couple of cans left. We're going to make a night of it before the cavalry arrives."

As he pulled a couple of barely chilled beers from the tired spluttering fridge, Nero realized that he had no clue who they were expecting to join them. The only friend of Dante's he'd met was Trish and she was supposed to be overseas searching for some fabled Devil's Arm. The chances of her suddenly dropping by were more than a little unlikely.

Depositing the beer on the coffee table, Nero saw that Dante had acquired another glass and was working on the last segment of the bottle now; using what looked like a tall women's fashion magazine as a coaster.

"Can't let you drink alone," he quipped in reply to Nero's dark look. Booted feet back on the table Dante seemed completely at ease as he leaned back into the scuffed leather and draped his arms across the tortured sofa's sagging back. Nero's eyes flickered to the table, checking the gun was still where Dante had tossed it. Quick though the glance was, it didn't escape Dante's notice.

"No need to be so concerned, it's really nothing to worry about. I'm not gonna go blowing any-ones brains out tonight. Just needed to illustrate a point." Nero hesitated on the verge of asking what night he did plan on shooting someone's brains out, but changed his mind.

"Why do you need to get so drunk?" He asked instead. "What are you going to do if someone calls with a mission tomorrow?" Nero could hear the anger brewing in his own voice as he snapped the ring-pull and tried the beer. It wasn't bad, a little sour tasting and a little bubblier than he'd expected, but far more palatable than the burning whiskey had been.

"This isn't as bad as it could be." Dante said in a placating tone. "At worst I'll probably be nursing a head ache tomorrow, but nothing worse. It's harder for me to get drunk than most people."

Nero noted the use of the word people again and recalled that Dante was never one to speak of himself in terms of humans and demons. It was always left to others to say things like "You're not human" or "You're the son of the demon Sparda". The closest Dante had come to defining himself in Nero's hearing had been when they'd first met. The unfinished sentence "Looks like you too are a…" had long preyed on Nero's mind. What had Dante been going to call the pair of them? What did having both demon and human blood make them and how much sway did either side really have over them? Having been raised to think of all demons as evil, Nero had felt that in fighting the enemies of mankind, he was resisting the whispers in his mind, but was he really playing into their hands? Was violence, even against demons a sign of a demonic heritage? If only he knew his parentage some of these questions might be easier to answer, but his only clue was Sanctus' shocking pronouncement that he, Nero, carried the blood of Sparda in one form or another.

Nero's head was beginning to spin, though he was unsure if it was from the pressures of so much thinking, the alcohol he was unused to, or a combination of both.

"You didn't answer my question." Nero pointed out, crushing the empty can in his right hand and shaking his head to try to clear it.

"What question?" Though Dante feigned ignorance, Nero wasn't deterred.

"Why do you _need_ to drink like this? Is this life really that bad?"

Dante smiled awkwardly and seemed to be trying to work out how best to begin an answer. This evening had been the longest continuous conversation the two had shared and it was starting to wear on him.

"I don't _need_ to drink, and no, I'm not just saying that. The truth is that I have to do something and it simply seemed the most appealing distraction for tonight. I always indulge more than is healthy when I need to get my kicks so I like to vary them." He held up a hand and started counting off on his fingers. "Drinking, eating, training, sex, gambling. Some of my favourite vices."

"Training?" Nero blinked confused.

"Anything can be a vice if you over indulge. I mean look at these." He flexed one arm, displaying stone muscles. "Perfection takes dedication kid." He grinned wolfishly. "We've call got our ways of keeping the darkness at bay."

"We?" Nero asked and regretted it, embarrassed that he'd fallen into parroting, prying. He felt that he shouldn't be quite so interested, but the beer seemed to have loosened his natural reticence.

"Most demon hunters I've met have had their little ways." He played with his glass as he spoke. "Trish can be a real slave to that bike of hers sometimes and when it comes to clothes she tends to spend all my cash as well as her own." He ran a hand along the collar of his shirt. "If it wasn't for her spending sprees I'd probably run out of clothes on a daily basis." He mused. "Then there's our little collection." He indicated the many displays of weapon adorning the walls. "That's something we both share a bit of a passion for, even if some of them can be ridiculously temperamental at times."

Nero swore he heard a scandalized female voice murmur "_Oh really_?" and hastily started on another beer.

"So is that why you've survived so long in this business?" Nero asked, wondering if perhaps this was the real gem of knowledge he'd come to the city to learn.

"I might be," Dante conceded, "though a bloody minded attitude and a talent for the work also helps." He gave a smirk which faded quickly as he poured another drink only to find the bottle now stood empty. "Still, it's a little early for you to be worrying about this side of things kid. You seem to be doing well on the mindless compulsion front."

Nero frowned, seeing that Dante was looking over at the bar as he said this, and thumped his beer down feeling insulted.

"This is the first time I've drank I'll have you know," he began heatedly, his voice sounder a little thick "and I'm not just doing it for the distraction." As he spoke he realized the lie in this, seeing as the screams, "_my children_!" in his head had now stopped, but he'd be damned if he was going to admit it to Dante.

"Not quite my meaning." Dante chuckled, deciding to let that emphatic denial slide, and gestured with his glass at Nero's sword, still standing propped against the bar. "You make a cute couple but you really need to get a room."

Nero could feel a blush rising and he swiped at his nose reflexively. He knew he might show her a little more attention than might be deemed healthy, but he could see a queue of innuendo in Dante's eyes, and was determined to cut him off.

"Alright already," he hurried, as Dante's glee faded into a put-out pout. Clearly he'd been waiting for an opportunity to make jokes about Nero polishing his sword in public. "So maybe I can be a bit obsessive as well, but does it really work?"

"Well if it means you can still do the job with full satisfaction then yeah. It gives you a bit of distance to make the tough choices as well. You should ask Trish about it when she gets back. Or better yet" he added, standing up at the sound of a speeding motorbike screeching to a halt outside "why not ask the lady of the hour?" He stood up and moved to sit on the desk, leaving Nero vaguely confused.

Nero's brows furrowed as he was about to askew what on earth Dante was on about, when the front door was kicked into the wall, causing Dante to wince again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing wasting the money I lent you on booze Dante?!"

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_Author's Note: Not sure when my next up date will be, though I'm hard at work on the next chapter of this as well as one or two other Devil May Cry stories. Thank you so much for the kind reviews and I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing for you. I've decided not to let this slide into yaoi or shonen-ai which it kept trying to do though I might write a sequel/continuation of Something On His Mind..._


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer :- Devil May Cry and all it's characters are the property of Capcom and are being used here in compliance with the terms found on their website.

* * *

**What it Means to be Human**

"Always lovely to see you too babe. How about a kiss for your favourite business partner?" He approached the door with arms out and lips pursed, ready to hug the woman who was removing her helmet.

"I'm sure Kalina Anne would just love a kiss. Pucker up pal!" She slung the overly large weapon off her back and used it to ward off the letch while working her way out of her biker leathers.

Dante chuckled and back up as Lady waved a hand in front of her face with a disgruntled expression.

"Man do you reek. Let me guess, you didn't even stop for a shower before deciding to get trashed?"

"The girl knows me so well," Dante sighed, giving Nero a wink and heading back in the direction of the bar.

"Red for me" Lady called leaning her weapon against the wall and fixing her helmet hair. "Just as well I was in the area. It's been a tiring night and I could do with a laugh watching you humiliate yourself."

"Wait a minute," Nero looked between the pair in confusion. "I thought she was coming over to _stop _you drinking?" Lady laughed at Nero's open expression of fluster and vaguely pouting consternation.

"Bit late for that. Man he wasn't kidding when he said you were a kid. You sure you should be drinking?" Nero rubbed at his nose but didn't feel comfortable bawling a woman out, especially when she was technically in the right, and so he held his tongue. As Dante's back was to the room, Lady bent over Dante's desk, rummaging through the drawers and apparently unaware of how this looked in the leather biker trousers. Nero turned aside trying not to blush and grabbed up another beer.

"You won't find any cash there Lady." Dante's voice was singsong as he uncorked and poured wine for his guest. A fresh bottle of whiskey was open at his side. "I've a new hiding place. That I guarantee you'll never find."

Nero's eyes flickered to the jukebox unthinkingly.

"Ah ha!" Lady exclaimed approaching the machine.

"Thanks a lot kid!" Dante moaned forcefully pulling Lady off of the prized antique. "Look I'll pay you back out of the money for tonight's gig."

"I already picked that up on your behalf, that there's still a few hundred more I'm owed after a certain card game."

"Hey I owe you nothing for that. You were cheating!"

"Of course I was! You were too, you're just not as accomplished."

"Excuse me!" The two old friends stopped, fingers still pointing accusingly at one another as Nero's shout rang through the room. He blushed a little at the stares and cursed his light headedness. To cover the moment he extended his left hand.

"I'm Nero," he said rather awkwardly.

"Yeah kid, I kinda guessed." Lady said, with a smile as she shook his had hard and peered over, at the right hand he was trying to hide behind his back. Even with his sleeve down he seemed rather self conscious of his Devil Bringer, especially when the woman seemed to know just what it implied about Nero's bloodline. "I'm Lady. I bring in the jobs for this useless lump." She pointed a thumb at Dante before turning to speak to him. "Shouldn't you have thought to make the introductions?" Dante shrugged and handed over the glass of wine.

"Do you hunt demons as well them?" Nero asked, thinking about her familiarity with heavy duty weapons as Lady arched one eyebrow.

"He never mentioned me?" She glared over at Dante who was settling back o the sofa, apparently oblivious to everything but the drink in his hand. "Not even once? So much for friendship," Lady sighed and perched on the edge of the coffee table causing Nero to hurriedly sit down in an awkward manner. "I've known this big lug since, well since he was about your age I guess."

"Really?" It was Nero's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why do I find it impossible to imagine that old geezer was ever young, like the two of us?" He treated Lady of a disarming smile.

"Ooo! Flatterer. I like this one Dante, he's a smoothie. Personally I find it impossible to think of Dante as grown up. He can be such a child sometimes."

Dante finished his glass and slammed it down as Nero and Lady laughed together.

"Now I remember why I don't ask you over more often. You live to make my life hell, don't you?"

"Of course! Count yourself lucky I don't keep a photo-album of your most embarrassing moments to drag out for guests." She smirked and sipped her wine appreciatively, crossing her legs on the table and staring up at the ceiling fan which sliced away the seconds. "So kid, Dante tells me you're pretty good in a pinch. How'd you find it tonight, working the big city?"

Nero blinked. He hadn't realized that Dante had spread the word about him and only hoped that he hadn't told too many people about his demonic heritage.

"I think the people might take some getting used to. I'm not used to passers by staying for a gawk before running for their lives." Dante and Lady both chuckled and noticed how Nero unconsciously moved to shade his right hand again.

"I'd imagine it must be a little different from out in the sticks. You come up to town much before now?"

"Only now and again. Fortuna's always been a little insular but this is the only place to come for the luxuries." He thought better of telling them that luxuries in Fortuna included most electronics, books and magazines involving anything the Order was iffy about and clothes anywhere close to fashionable. Modernisation had been discouraged in favour of worship and dedication to their Saviour.

Though he hated to admit it, Nero was somewhat embarrassed by his home town. Not only had everyone there devoted themselves to worshipping a demon, but hundreds of them had died as a result of it and despite this, the Order of the Sword still existed and carried on its reverence for Sparda, their Saviour. Having declared Sanctus and his inner circle to have been heretics, other clerics had risen in the ranks and life seemed to be returning to how it had been before the demons had beset the town, although the people were a little more worldly now and outside influences weren't as distrusted as they had once been. Still, it bugged him to think that they were trying to sweep it under the carpet and act as though all that death and destruction hadn't been a part of the Order's original goals. One of the reasons he'd chosen to leave there at this time was to avoid the trials of those remaining high ranked members of the Order who were charged with heresy. They were also planning on holding public, posthumous excommunications of the dead heretics. Nero shuddered at the thought. He couldn't take hearing Credo and his other brethren being condemned by a bunch of bureaucrats who had been the first to flee when things got ugly. He gritted his teeth at the thought that those officials themselves seemed surprisingly well informed as to what Sanctus had planned to do, given that they were supposedly not part of the conspiracy.

"You okay Nero?"

Nero snapped back to the present in surprise. Lady had removed her sunglasses and was staring at him with raised eyebrows, while Dante had taken his feet off of the table and turned to face Nero while sprawling a little more over his side of the sofa. Somehow he'd forgotten the pair of allies were there and he wasn't certain even now which one of them had spoken the words that had interrupted his reverie. Belated, Nero realized that he'd been about to take a sip from the can in his hand before his thoughts were diverted and still held it to his lips.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Hastily downing what was left of the beer, Nero cursed himself inwardly for having drifted off like that in company. Coughing and looked away from the pair of them he tried to keep his cool. He felt anger welling inside him at the look in their eyes. Was it sympathy or pity? Swapping the can to his right hand, he crushed it rather forcefully and rolled it into a ball.

"Nice party trick," Lady's concern appeared to evaporate as a smirk broke out on her face. She passed him the last beer before pouring herself another glass of wine.

"Maybe that's enough for one night." Dante's voice was less commanding than usual. Normally he would act in complete control of everything that went on under his roof, but since the atmosphere had darkened once again he seemed to speak to Nero more as an equal than a rookie.

"I said I'm fine," Nero repeated more forcefully, cracking open the beer and swigging it defiantly. In truth he could feel his head becoming far foggier and was glad he was sitting as he didn't quite trust his legs. The constant whomping of the ceiling fan beat against his ear drums and his heart seemed to quicken in a matching pace. "At least I've enough self control not to shoot at people like a crazy man."

He hadn't meant to say that, hadn't even known the angry words were inside him until they'd spilled out filled with heat and a little venom. Lowering his head in the silence that stretched out the fan seemed to grow louder and louder so that Nero could feel a pressure growing in his ears.

Unseen by Nero, Lady glared daggers at Dante who shrugged it off, trying to act cocksure and unphased but avoiding her mismatched gazed. Seeing the gun on the table for the first time, Lady's face became a little more heated. She stood and came around to the sofa in one second of quick fluid movement. When Dante still seemed more intent on his drink than her, she raised her left hand and brought it down in a ringing slap across the gunslinger's face.

Nero looked up in surprise and alarm at the scene in front of him. That Dante could have dodged such a blow or retaliated, yet didn't, spoke volumes. He knew that Dante would never apologise for his actions yet this gesture made his regret clear. He now knew how much he'd scared Nero, pointing a gun at him like that in here of all places. Dante knew that to the likes of Lady and Trish, Devil May Cry had become a sanctuary of sort where they came when they needed to kick back in a way they just couldn't in a public bar or club. In raising arms against a fellow, here of all places, he had violated that sanctuary.

As the red slap mark quickly faded, Dante looked up at Lady, a glint in his eyes conveying the thank you he would never speak aloud. Satisfied, she went around to perch on the sofa arm next to Nero.

"Drink up kid," Nero hated that she'd picked _kid_ up from Dante, "there isn't much of the night left, but what there is, is ours."

Looking from one to the other of his drinking companions, Nero saw some of the need he'd felt in himself when the dark feeling had prompted him to try to drink straight whiskey. Yet there was none of the loneliness there that'd he'd felt, and suddenly he realized that he didn't feel it anymore either. Being with Lady and Dante and listening to them just bullshitting, had driven out loneliness and made the shop into a friendlier seeming place. Hesitantly he smiled at them and laughed under his breath.

Slipping off his long coat which was now rather uncomfortable with the beer warming him, Nero relaxed back beer in hand, enjoying the lightening of the mood. Lady seemed intrigued to see more of his demonic arm and leaned over for a better look. Nero tried not to flinch at the attention but didn't move either to cover his arm or give Lady a better view. He really hoped she wouldn't start asking questions he couldn't or wouldn't answer. He'd been raised not to be polite to women and that included overly curious and forward gun toters.

"Music!" Dante suddenly yelled jumping up and bounding towards the brightly lit jukebox. Both Nero and Lady chuckled to see him struggle with the device, pressing buttons then slapping the top of the device, then kicking the side in and effort to shake some life out of it.

"Maybe if you got that money out of there and put it in my pocket where it belongs she'd be a little more co-operative?" Lady taunted.

"Like hell! My baby isn't about to betray me for you Lady." He wiggled the wire at the back before kicking his _baby_ again before silently deciding that he must have caused some unknown damaged when he'd opened her up to hide the money.

"Guess I'll have to do it myself then." He turned, his eyes dancing as he eyed the cabinets which held his more unusual weapons. Nero hadn't had much of a chance to examine Dante's collection yet, but the weapon he was making a bee-line for was one that had caught his eye almost immediately. Looking down at the weapon beneath the glass Dante spoke under his breath. "You ready, sugar?"

* * *

_Authors note: A big thank you to my reviewers. You've given me a lot more confidence so that I'm writing more than ever. I hope this latest offering is up to snuff and am sorry I was so long in posting it but I was away. I can only hope that I can keep posting quite so regularly. Thank you to everyone who reads this, I'm having so much fun writing for you (even if saying that makes me sounds ten years old) and hope you continue to read my work._


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